Page 120 of Love Felt Like This

“So, I’m just…funny…looking?”

He snorts. “No. You’re beautiful.”

“Stop.”

Griffin says nothing in response but still stares. But he doesn’t drift down to my breasts or the slit in my skirt that is rising dangerously close to my hips. He’s focused on my eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“I like having you here.”

“Here?”

“Around, in general,” he says. “In this house.”

“You mean in this blank museum?”

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s so cold. You gotta decorate if I’m gonna be here.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Then maybe I will.”

He lingers for a moment more, so I ask, “Aren’t you gonna go to bed?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“No,” he answers.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.”

“But you’re right across the hall,” I counter.

“And I’ve been around too many drunk people to know even that can be too far.”

He takes me in a moment longer before rolling up his shirtsleeves to his forearms, then securing them at the elbows. “I’ll be back in two seconds with water, all right?”

“Can I get in bed?”

“Of course.”

I don’t expect him to bend down and gather me into his arms, but he does, carrying me like a bride to the mattress. I get bleary-eyed the moment my head hits the silk pillow.

He walks toward the doorway, but I call out.

“Hey, Griffin?”

He turns, placing a palm on the doorjamb. “Yeah?”

“You’re very kind. Nice too. But kind. Which is more important.”

He squints at me, with little lines fanning out beside his eyes. A smile without smiling. An acknowledgment.

“Thank you, B.”